Waltz in Blue
by noahschnee
Summary: This story follows Vincent Glass, Buddy's Glass's son. Takes inspiration from several Salinger stories.


"Jean! Would you come here, darling? I have someone I'd like you to meet," Christine shouted across the kitchen to the tall, dark-skinned Spanish girl who had been nursing the same glass of wine for a large portion of the last hour.

"Always, there's always something. Christine, have you seen my sister? It's getting pretty late."

"Oh shut your mouth. Just come meet my friend. You'll love him, I promise."

"Him?"

"Yes, him. I've decided if you aren't going to make an effort searching for a quality guy then I may as well do it for you."

"I'm perfectly happy not—"

"I said to be quiet," Christine smiled as she grabbed Jean above the elbow and led her out of the kitchen door and into the large living area. Groups of people rolled five deep and these groups were scattered about throughout the space of the room. The room was filled with countless vibrant tones as words and laughter erupted from drunken mouths. The women would speak of other women and occasionally even men. The men would speak of sports and work and occasionally even women.

The two girls traveled up the long staircase to the balcony where a small group occupied sofas that on-looked the party. They approached a young man sitting a few feet separate from the group. He was dressed in a wrinkled navy suit and a white shirt, his hair slicked back to where it curled as it ended and his moustache was thin, his beard was absent. He leaned against the balcony, back facing the crowd, and he took drinks from a glass of champagne as he observed a piece of artwork hanging on the wall.

"Hello Vincent! This is my good friend, Jean. This is the girl I was telling you about earlier."

"Oh, yes—pardon me—nice to meet you. Vincent Glass," Vincent spoke nervously as he reached out to shake Jean's hand, "Christine has told me a lot about you," Jean then glared menacingly but warmly in the direction of Christine. Jean was already finding him oddly attractive, his appearance suggested a lack of money or self-maintenance and for once she wasn't set off by this.

Before she could think of what to say Vincent began to speak again, "I hear you graduated from Barnard. My father was an English professor there for a while before I was born."

"Really? That's fantastic. My mother is an Economics professor there. What's your father's name?"

"Web Glass. Most people just call him Buddy however."

"Hmmm, Buddy Glass. I can't say I've heard the name but I'll be sure to ask my mom about him."

Vincent let out a short chuckle, "My dad's sort of a pain in the ass, you'd probably be better off not finding out if she knows him."

"I see," Jean spoke flirtatiously. She wasn't acting like she was used to. She was too flamboyant. Something about Vincent was intriguing to her. He seemed to carry around this great anxiousness and it was apparent when he spoke for he spoke quietly and slowly as to not make a mess of anything, yet he was confident in the way he supported himself. Maybe it was intentional, maybe it was the build of his shoulders, "How long have you known Caroline?"

"Uhmm, let me think here," Vincent scratched the skin behind his ear, "I think our mothers met when I was twelve so just over twelve years now. How long have you known her?"

"Just a few years. I don't really know her much to be honest. She's friends with my little sister."

"Ah, I see. Is your sister Audrey by chance? You two look very similar."

"Yes."

"I think I met her a few months ago at the Cavalier Club. She was with my good friend Daniel," Vincent was growing tired of the small talk and he could feel Jean's attraction growing by the minute. This feeling wasn't narcissism, it was boredom. "Hey, do you want to go for a walk around the garden with me? I like seeing all the little flowers under starlight."

"Yes, of course I would. I have to leave by midnight though so I haven't got that long. My baby cousin has a dance recital in the morning."

Vincent and Jean slid their way through the crowd and exited the house through a back door. The night air was cool. Smells of damp grasses hung above their heads and mixed with the smells of perfumes spilling out the open windows. The wet dirt on the ground under the soft sheets of green sang songs of summer as the two made their way to the garden. The moon held on heavily to the navy blue masses of sky like a fly enveloped in the amber of old trees. It casted silver light in every direction and no surface was left empty of it's energy. The garden was alive with the buzzing of insects inhabiting a shelter of colorful flowers.

"Come over here," Vincent shouted. Jean was taking in the beauty of the scene. It was much more pure in the nighttime, "Come look at the roses."

The roses were pale in the light and drops of rain collected on the petals and they ran down the length of the stems. Vincent pulled out a small knife and cut a flower from the bush. He shook some of the rain off of it and handed it to Jean before he spoke again.

"I'm sorry if this is too personal of a question, it's just that here lately I've been wanting to ask someone. Have you ever been in love?"

Jean laughed, "What an odd question. No, I can't say I have."

"Well it's a damn awful feeling."

"You've been in love before?"

"_Am. _I _am _in love. I have been for the past three years. And with a woman that hardly thinks of me. Love is a damn awful feeling."

Jean could feel the desperation in the way he talked. He'd been waiting centuries for someone to talk to about this. He was exposed now. The rawness showed his fears and Jean no longer felt the same childish attraction that she did earlier. She felt guilty when she thought of him in that way, he was too innocent for her hands, too precious.

"Well why don't you do something about it?"

"She doesn't let me get close enough to make any efforts. She hates affection and poetry. I don't blame her. That's why I asked Christine to introduce me to you. I figured maybe I could get you to talk to her for me."

"I can't be of much help if I don't know who it is."

"It's your sister. Audrey. I didn't actually meet her at the Cavalier Club. She dated an old friend of mine a few years back. I know I'm a stranger but if you could just ask her about me sometime I'd be more than pleased."

"Yes, of course. I'd be happy to," usually a girl like Jean would run from a man who showed so much obsession like Vincent, but there was something that made his effort sweet. It was clear that fantasies of anything sexual or vile weren't plaguing his thoughts. He'd given his soul for Audrey long ago and he was waiting impatiently for any kind of hint that she was receiving the pieces of him, being sure that the pieces weren't misunderstood. This was the first time Jean saw devotion.

"Thank you so much," he quickly kissed her forehead, "you're a very sweet girl."

"Do you suppose it's midnight yet?"

"Yes, I suppose," the silhouettes walked toward the yellow lights of the windows and the dull red color of the brick.

"Audrey is actually here tonight. I have to find her anyway. You should come and say hello to her."

Vincent hesitated before answering, "Oh hell, why not?"

They found Audrey laughing in a corner with one of the larger groups. Her bronze skin beautified her teeth to point of incomprehension. She wore a blue gown and her hair crashed in dark waves to the left.

"Audrey," Jean spoke loud enough for her to hear. It took several seconds for the sound of her sister's voice to register and for her to turn around.

"Yes? Are we leaving?"

"Yes, but first I want you to meet my friend. Vincent Glass. He says he knows you."

Audrey lit up instantly, "Oh Vincent! Is that really you? I can hardly recognize you with that moustache. Wow, you look fantastic," she studied him up and down and drew into him for a hug.

"It seems like it's been forever! I'm so glad to see you. You look gorgeous," he had so many things he wished to speak to her and in the next several minutes of conversation few of those words actually came out.

A large man, obviously military, probably in his mid-thirties approached their group and put his hand on Audrey's shoulder.

"Where have you been?" Audrey asked.

"Oh I was just talking to a few guys from the office," he then noticed the two strangers and extended his hand, "Hello, nice to meetya. Name's Jacob," He spoke in an asinine tone that perfectly matched his physical build.

"Jake, this is my old friend, Vincent. And this is my older sister, Jean," Audrey spoke.

"Nice to meet you Jacob. Audrey are you ready to leave?" Jean asked.

"Yes, just wait a minute. Jake, will you come help me find my coat?" the couple then left and disappeared through the kitchen door.

"What a _prick,_" Vincent mumbled in Jean's ear.

It had just started raining when the small black car pulled up to the large brownstone house. The man parked the car and dug around in the glove compartment for something, an old copy of TIME Magazine. Once he found it he jumped out of the car and briskly approached the front door of the house.

He held the magazine over his head, but for a large man it did little help. And in the heavy rain he searched frantically for the correct key. His hands moved quickly hen slowly from the intoxication. He then heard the scraping of wood against concrete and then the impact of wood on glass and the sound of shattered glass hitting concrete. He turned around to see a man slamming a bat against his car. Each swing grew more and more passionate.

"Hey! Pal!" he shouted as he ran up to the man, "What's your problem? Someone's going to hafta pay for this!" He tried to see the man's face through the rain. He looked vaguely similar from the characteristics he could pick out, "Hey, you're that Vincent kid, aren't ya? Whaddahellya think you're doing, huh? Hey! Knock it off! Can ya hear me? I saidta knock it off!" He tried grabbing for the bat but the drinks from earlier slowed down his movement and caused him to stumble. He gained balance when his thighs found the side of the car, just above the tire. Vincent started letting out pants as he slowed down his swings. When he had stopped he lowered the bat and slowly walked towards Jacob.

"Why do guys like you have to ruin precious things?" after asking this Vincent dropped the bat in the gutter beside Jacob and walked in the opposite direction into the darkness.

"Hey! Get back here! Whaddya mean by that, kid? Crazy kid! Someone's gonna hafta pay for this, pal!" Jacob surveyed the damage done to his car and began to cry.

Vincent arrived in the hotel lobby with his suit and coat dripping water. He received nasty looks from the clerks behind the desk and from the old men discussing politics in the center of the room. He rushed to the elevator, trying with no avail to keep water off the white porcelain tile. When he got to his floor he found his room key and slowly walked to his door at the end of the hall, as he opened the door he opened it with the carefulness of an adolescent creeping out of his house. He stripped of his wet clothing and replaced it with one large bath robe. He then sat at the edge of his bed for the next thirty minutes and meditated before he went to the bathroom and started filling the tub up with cold water. He found his bag and grabbed a knife and a worn piece of paper. He set the paper on the sink and brought the blade into the bath with him. He felt the burn as the blade shredded the skin down the length of his wrists and he watched as red clouds erupted from the wound and balanced throughout the length of the tub.

The paper read:

_Bury me with the roses._


End file.
